


Lovin' in Sin City

by dontcallmebree



Series: Do The Things You Never Showed Nobody [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Mob, Bearded Steve Rogers, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mob Boss Steve Rogers, Modern Bucky Barnes, Personal Assistant Bucky Barnes, Shrunkyclunks, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, sorta Slice of Life or timestamps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 07:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30135831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontcallmebree/pseuds/dontcallmebree
Summary: If Bucky thought that a wedding in Vegas would be tacky - and he did - he’s happy to be proven wrong. He’s discovered that you can make anything happen with the kind of money being thrown into this whole affair.A giant shindig like this, means aninsanehodgepodge of people suddenly coming together and congregating within a ten mile radius. If someone were to do a drive-by at any given time this weekend, he’d guarantee that one of New York’s five boroughs would have a sudden restructuring of power.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Do The Things You Never Showed Nobody [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022916
Comments: 18
Kudos: 76





	Lovin' in Sin City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not the wedding you’re looking for. (no, really, it’s not.)
> 
> Eternal gratitude to beta reader Meraki_Moli.

If Bucky thought that a wedding in Vegas would be tacky - and he did - he’s happy to be proven wrong. He’s discovered that you can make anything happen with the kind of money being thrown into this whole affair.

The Odinsons and Fosters have rented out a whole goddamn resort in the outskirts of Las Vegas, classy and ostentatious all wrapped up in one. Miles from the lights of the strip, the resort boasts an array of buildings, bars, and restaurants, complete with multiple halls. It’s almost like a small city in itself. 

Bucky rubs at his eyes as the car creeps closer to the entrance, willing his body to wake up. The flight was no more than six hours, so despite Maria’s perfect flying, he didn’t take advantage of the peace to take a nap. Besides, everyone was too busy talking security and schedules for the weekend. 

A giant shindig like this, thrown by Norway’s Ambassador to the US and someone like Thor, means an _insane_ hodgepodge of people suddenly coming together and congregating within a ten mile radius. If someone were to do a drive-by at any given time this weekend, he’d guarantee that one of New York’s five boroughs would have a sudden restructuring of power.

It’s not just that the wedding is attended by a particularly large number of high profile guests - though it is. It’s also that while Thor’s family is a prominent member of the New York social scene _and_ the US and Norwegian governments, the man himself is a not-so-minor player in the less than legal underground dealings of multiple businesses in the country, not to mention a couple other continents. Hell, they’re all his _friends_. 

There’s a reason he managed to get so buddy buddy with Steve Rogers. 

While the media will probably take note of the government officials, socialites, and east coast personalities of various reputations making an appearance in Nevada in the next 72 hours, there are countless other nameless faces melting into the crowd that’ve got larger estimated values than all the present household names combined. 

Vegas is already enough of a no man’s land for them, but Thor choosing to hold his wedding of the decade here, knowing the kind of guest list he’s got, is almost like one giant practical joke.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve whispers into his hair, almost like he knows Bucky’s dreaming about taking an ill-timed nap. He hums and buries himself against Steve’s side, letting his eyes rest for two seconds. “We’re almost there, don’t sleep now,” the older man chuckles, even as he cards gentle fingers through Bucky’s hair, which is _not helping, Steve_.

“Then why’s the car still moving,” Bucky mumbles against Steve’s bare collarbone, sighing as he mouths against the soft skin. 

He can practically _hear_ Steve roll his eyes. “You’re gonna regret nodding off when I gotta wake you up in about thirty seconds,” he warns. “Besides, we don’t got anywhere to be for a while, thought we could make use of the jacuzzi soon as we settle in.”

“Ooh,” Bucky enthuses dramatically, and while it’s mostly for show, it does actually perk him up. “Really?” Ah, a jacuzzi, how nice. Maybe he can even nap in it. 

“Mm-hmm,” Steve kisses his eyelids in that way that he does, pulling innocuous shit that tugs at Bucky’s heartstrings. “It’s public but that end of the rooms are all ours anyway.” For security reasons, they’re traveling with more company than they normally would, namely ten Roshars in total. Dani and Clara are stationed back home, holding down the fort. 

Following regular protocol, Gen and Roy are already waiting for them, arriving ahead of time to do the usual security checks - and nab a few days of free vacation out of it. They beat out the rest of the guys for the honor by virtue of, well, being good at their jobs, he supposes. 

“I think Alice will drop by later, for lunch or something.” Bucky puts in the effort to pull himself out of the sleepy lull, looking out the window and seeing that they’re in fact about to reach the lobby. 

His sisters arrived days early, Becca for bridesmaid duties and Alice because she and Peter decided to make a trip out of it. He wonders how bummed they’ll be if - let’s be real, here, _when_ \- Bucky tells them they could’ve ridden in a private jet if they’d hitched with the Roshars. He snorts, imagining their reaction. Well, he supposes they’ll get to enjoy the luxury on the way back anyway.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asks, smiling down at him until the corners of his eyes crinkle all too endearingly. Bucky can’t resist kissing them away, though it only exacerbates the issue further. Fuck, his boyfriend’s way too cute sometimes. “Buck, honey,” he wheedles with a whine.

“Nothing,” Bucky shakes his head. “You,” he says instead when Steve keeps looking at him askance, earning a fond huff from the blonde. 

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Steve mock scowls, as the car finally crawls to a halt. “Maybe I’ll coax it out of you in the jacuzzi.” Bucky laughs like the idea’s preposterous, but the joke’s on him. An hour later, bent over the edge of the heated pool, he’s about ready to tell Steve whatever the fuck he wants.

◆

Bucky does get to take that nap, though it’s a toss up if it’s because of his previous drowsiness or just post-coital fatigue setting in. 

Regardless, he’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when late lunch comes around, thoroughly showered and in fresh clothes. They’re in the living room of Gen’s suite, touching base before the resort gets even more crowded and their schedules fill up. The wedding isn’t until tomorrow, so most of the guests are expected to arrive tonight. 

“Ugh, if you’re gonna use _my_ suite to set up shop, the least you assholes can do is order some decent food,” Gen wrinkles her nose, picking through the room service carts by the side of the room and hoarding half a plate of fries to herself. 

Bucky flops down next to Steve, making himself comfortable against the high-backed couch. “We did, Gen. Sam and Riley are out picking up Mexican right now.” Gen’s eyes light up, and all is forgiven. She quickly gives up the fries for the other Roshars in the room to snack on. 

Sam and Riley return not fifteen minutes later bearing the promised and long awaited Mexican food, with extra dips galore. The hungry Brooklyn Irish waste no time in swiping their fair share within minutes. 

Bucky’s a third into his second taco when there’s the sound of scuffling outside, nothing too loud but enough to pique his interest. Steve must hear it, too, and his hearing’s probably good enough to deduce more, because he quickly looks up and says, “Hey, it’s Peter.”

Steve goes to get up and presumably let him through, but Bucky waves him down and goes to do that himself. Sure enough, Roy and Sof are a few doors down barring Peter from finding their room. “Guys, that’s my sister’s boyfriend,” Bucky calls out, making his way down the hall. 

“Bucky, hey,” Peter looks relieved to see him. “Sorry, I thought you said your room number was here, but-”

“You got it right, don’t worry,” Bucky shoots him an appeasing smile. Sof gestures at Peter’s bulky jacket, and Bucky nods at her to go ahead. “Hey, sorry, kid, security’s gonna be pretty tight around here, can Sof search you?”

Peter looks like a deer in the headlights, worriedly flicking his eyes between the hulking mass of Roy and Sof’s eagle eyed stare. “Um.”

“Nothing too invasive,” Bucky tries to reassure him, and Peter nods along. Sof is quick about the search, patting him down with efficient hands, well practiced in respecting personal space while ensuring the safety of whoever she’s assigned to.

Two seconds later and she claps Peter on the back, with a warm, “You’re Alice’s boyfriend? It’s good to meet you.” Peter looks a little taken aback by it all, but mostly rolls with the punches, and soon follows Bucky inside. 

“How’s Vegas been treating you and Alice?” Bucky asks, leading him to where everyone else is. 

Peter’s eyes find the room number, a couple off from what Bucky gave him, and his eyebrows furrow for half a second but he lets it go without comment. “It’s been good, I’ve never been either so this was fun.” They walk into a handful of Roshars chowing down on food, take out containers mixed in with fancy plates and utensils from the hotel. “Oh, you already ate. Alice is getting us something from this really good Ethiopian place we found a few days ago.”

Steve looks up from his plate, greeting Peter with a bright smile. “Don’t sweat it, kid, nothin’s goin’ to waste, trust me. These guys are fucking vultures.” Everyone verbally protests Steve’s declaration, but he gets them to pipe down without effort. “Guys, this is Alice’s boyfriend, Peter,” he tells the room, who choruses their hellos in between bites of food. 

“Hey, don’t think we’ve met,” Sam comes over and perches on the arm of a couch, legs spread for balance. “Heard about you, though,” he grins. 

“That’s Sam,” Bucky unceremoniously hands off a plate of five tacos and half a burrito to Peter, tucking a wedge of lime with a napkin just in case. “He’s a bit of an asshole, but he grows on you.” Sam doesn’t even deny it, shrugging defeatedly like at this point in life, his personality’s really out of his hands. 

It takes Bucky longer than he’d admit to realize that he’s treating Peter like Alice, a kid he needs to feed and keep an eye on. He shakes himself out of it, but a glance at Steve’s not so subtle smirk tells him that he’s been caught anyway. “Shaddup,” Bucky mumbles, shoving Steve’s face away with grease stained fingers. 

Peter tucks in like he’s helpless to it, looking somewhat lost in the thin crowd of the room but holding his own with at least Sam and Riley. It’s not long before Alice joins them, unimpeded by anyone outside and carrying a box of delicious smelling Ethiopian food as promised. 

Bucky’s right, the new menu doesn’t last long and Bucky makes sure to grab enough for himself and Steve. Roy and Sof eat most of it, having opted out of the room service options, the former of whom sits down not too far from Peter to tell him, “Hey, sorry about earlier, man, didn’t know who you were.” Peter shrugs it off easily, coming out of his and Alice’s retelling of their past three days in the city. “Been antsy, you know? This place gets under my fucking skin. Last time I served time was ‘cause of a stint down here.”

Steve’s raises an eyebrow. “No one’s looking for you in the state anymore, are they?” Roy dismisses the concern before Steve can worry some more. 

“Pft, so you got busted,” Ayisha squeezes in next to Roy, who grumbles indignantly. “You got out having _finally_ read all those Christie books, so they did you a favor, didn’t they?”

Roy growls a much too soft _fuck off_ , and Gen jumps in with a deceivingly supportive, “Yeah, Ayisha, my cellmate and I _wrote_ a goddamn seven-act play, Roy didn’t do shit,” which gets her full on shoved off the back of the couch, much to the delight of everyone else. 

“Alright, alright,” Sam cuts in. “Don’t need a dick measuring contest about everything,” he shuts down the ribbing. He and Bucky exchange exasperated looks, which prompts Gen to stick her tongue out in a show of twisted maturity. “So you guys have any plans tonight?” Sam goes back to asking Peter and Alice. “Last night before the wedding,” he helpfully points out.

Alice finishes off the food, washing it down with lemonade. “Yeah, we want to go out one last time before tomorrow,” she announces, bouncing lightly in her seat, visibly bursting with anticipation. “Becs is actually free too, so she’ll be there,” she turns to Bucky. “Are you coming?”

He bites his bottom lip, guilt starting to creep in. “I’m sorry, Al, I can’t. I got a work dinner thing.”

“Buck, honey, I can go on my own. Go have fun with your sisters,” Steve frowns, eyebrows coming together. He wipes his hands on a fresh napkin before brushing it against his lips.

Bucky reaches over and takes the napkin from between Steve’s fingers, cleaning his bearded chin of crumbs and sauces, even giving it a peck for good measure. Steve’s face softens at the action, lips curling at the edges seemingly without conscious thought. “Don’t be ridiculous, I wanna be there.” He does. He hasn’t seen Shuri and Okoye in way too long. 

“Well,” Alice sighs dramatically. “You’ll be missing out, Bucky.” She’s putting on a pout, but the sparkle in her eye betrays her remaining delight over the planned night out.

“Where are you gonna go?” Steve asks, packing away the trash spread out in front of them and stuffing it all into one giant bag that’s been set aside. When Alice tells them they’ve got a list of bars and casinos to hit up, Steve gets a pensive look on his face and excuses himself for a minute. He’s back with Dale soon after, one of the Roshars in his late 30s. “Alice, Peter, this is Dale.”

“Hey,” Alice chirps with a friendly smile, excitement never having waned in the slightest. 

Steve joins him once more, leaning back and resting an arm along the back of the couch to fiddle with the ends of Bucky’s hair. “He’ll be around tonight, okay? Don’t worry about it if you see him once in a while.” 

Alice looks to Bucky for guidance, almost like she’s a kid again waiting for his cue at the doctor’s, but Bucky gives her a small nod and she goes along with it. Peter’s more confused than anything. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if he’s also a tad alarmed - he’d be, too, if he’s told that some random guy he doesn’t know is going to be tailing him for the night.

“You know where you’ll be going exactly?” Dale asks, and Alice starts off on a never-ending list that elicits a feeling of relief in Bucky, glad he’s opted out. He’s not exactly too old for the kind of night Alice is describing, but he knows he’ll be in parent mode the entire time if he were to come. He’s suddenly incredibly grateful for Dale, and for the fact that Becca will be there. 

Steve tunes it out, choosing instead to pull him into talk about the restaurant they’re booked at tonight, waxing poetic about the perfectly seared steaks they’re oh so famous for, and teasing him by whispering it a little too suggestively against the shell of his ear. 

Bucky’s giggling, halfheartedly batting at Steve’s chest in protest - though his wiggling is undeniably all for show, hardly making any headway in escaping the circle of Steve’s loving arms. “Sweetheart, they’ve got this real thick gorgeous cut of the juiciest-” 

He thinks Steve’s just searching for the most scandalous word he can come up with, but one glimpse of that stony face and he knows something’s wrong. He’s geared up to ask, but then Steve and Sam exchange a glance, and at once turn to Peter and Alice.

“Hold on,” Sam interrupts their chat with Dale. “Did you say you’re going to the Fountain Casino?” 

Alice’s head whips around, and she shrinks the slightest bit at the realization that most everyone in the vicinity is looking at her. “Um, yeah?”

“Should she not?” Bucky immediately asks, giving Steve and Sam a stern look so they know not to bullshit him. Not that they ever do, but he’s gotta let them know that they need to be straight with him when it comes to Alice. 

Despite the worry, he knows that his boyfriend would tell him if Alice might walk into some trouble unknowingly. Steve’s got a soft spot for her, same as him. “No, it’s fine,” Steve assures him, large hand coming up to caress his back and loosen the tension there, but the furrow between his eyebrows isn’t instilling a lot of confidence. “Gen, why don’t you tag along with Dale tonight?” he suggests, though there’s no question that it’s a clear order. 

While Gen mutters her disapproval, complaining with a halfway teasing, “I’m stuck with babysitting duty now?” Bucky knows she doesn’t actually mean it and will do her best to watch out for his baby sister. Steve sends her a warning glare either way, and she backs off.

“You’ll have tomorrow night off, alright?” he sighs, rolling his eyes. 

“Steve,” Bucky bodily turns to face him. “If it’s gonna be trouble, Alice can easily go somewhere else, she’s got like 99 other places on her list. I’d rather she doesn’t literally wander into the lair of some guy who’s got a grudge against you.”

“It’s not that, honey, I promise,” Steve runs a hand up his thigh, rubbing soothing circles as he kisses Bucky on the corner of his mouth. “The Fountain’s run by someone we know, yeah, but they’ve got nothing against us, I swear, Buck.” When Bucky still takes time to mull it over, Steve presses his lips against the wrinkle between his eyes as he’s learned to do, a move ripped straight from the younger man’s own book. He can’t deny that it’s effective, though, so he can’t exactly complain. 

Bucky looks up into that caring face, eyes soft and compassionate, ready to offer whatever comfort and support he can. He reaches up and buries his fingers into the soft tangle of hair lining Steve’s jaw, pulling him down for a short and sweet brush of lips. 

“Alright,” he tells Alice and Peter, who’s been silently watching him think through the chances of his baby sister getting seriously harmed because some asshole has it out for his boyfriend - not that they know that, necessarily. And fine, for the organization he’s a prominent member of as well, but who cares about details? “You take Gen and Dale with you, okay? And don’t get too drunk, don’t make friends with just anyone, and stick together.”

At that, Alice rolls her eyes, back to her giddy self. “You’re starting to sound like when I went to my first college party.” She nudges her elbow against Peter’s side, like she’s sharing a particularly embarrassing story. “It was all _don’t drink anything weird, Alice_ , _don’t go off on your own, Alice_ ,” she shoots daggers at Bucky accusingly, “ _Don’t forget a condom, Alice_.” Peter splutters out his lemonade, coughing for a good long while before he recovers.

“Well, you made it outta college in one piece, so I think I did _fine_ ,” Bucky sticks his nose up in the air decisively. “And you should _still_ use a condom, Alice.”

Even Steve’s muttering, “Jesus, Buck,” under his breath, grimacing at Alice and Peter in sympathy - the latter of whom is flushed bright red. Not that Steve would have any objections to continuous education of safe sex. Bucky remembers the story of how Steve was almost roped into doing a bunch of PSAs, until he actually read the script and saw the shit they wanted Cap to spew. 

Bucky might want to uphold transparency and honesty on the topic of adult relationships with his baby sister, but then Sam, _the bastard_ , takes it too far, joyously announcing, “Well, I don’t know, Bucky,” he makes a show of narrowing his eyes. “Riley saw you cleaning the jacuzzi. Sure didn’t look like you’re following your own advice.”

“Sam!” Bucky squawks, affronted. Meanwhile, Steve snorts, muffling his laughter behind a large hand without remorse. Alice is making a face like she’s stuck between never wanting to look her big brother in the eye ever again, and wanting to call Bucky out. He’s _never_ seen Peter more embarrassed. 

Ugh, he hates Sam.

◆

△

Steve’s already put in their order for the special fillet mignon, and wine to pair as suggested by the sommelier. He orders a couple more dishes anyway, making the most of their visit. He doesn’t love Vegas, a town that’s changed hands way too many times and much too easily in his experience, but he found this restaurant by accident once and it was a fucking hidden gem.

Sam had been dragging him from one gambling table to the next - not that he participated - robbing the people betting against him blind and earning dirty looks from guys on the floor. 

Steve finally reined him in and ducked into a random dive, which turned out to be a relatively busy and comparatively low-key steakhouse. Even better, the place has excellent food. He’s always made sure to pay the restaurant a visit every time he’s come to town - not that he’s been more than a few times. 

Shuri finally wraps up her order and gives up the menu, their waiter leaving with a practiced smile. “Vegas, really?” Shuri cocks a confident eyebrow. “I never took you for a cliché.” Steve purses his lips, taking the time to roll them between his teeth to keep from letting an affectionate smile take over. “This is your bread and butter, is it not?”

Steve can’t exactly deny that. The Roshars do make a hefty portion of their income from the kind of thing you’d expect from Sin City. He’s not one to indulge in what Vegas has to offer, but Sam and Riley are out there right now turning whatever cash they brought into triple the amount. “We’re here for a wedding, Shuri,” he deflects. “You know that.”

“Hmm, yes, and we’re just here to have a friendly dinner,” she keeps her voice prim, sarcasm lacing every syllable. 

Steve slides his eyes over to Okoye for a united front, but she’s already conspiring with Bucky like _Steve’s_ being as dramatic as the Wakanda princess. “Are you coming tomorrow?” Steve decides to move on, knowing that the embassy must have received an invite.

“I have better things to do,” Shuri picks up the table napkin and demurely sets it over her lap, smoothing it over with long, steady fingers. “Wakanda’s Ambassador to the US will be there, anyway. He’s much closer to Ambassador Odinson.”

“What, you’re not close to Thor?” Steve asks, and he has to admit that he doesn’t see the sharp look Shuri levels at him coming. He wasn’t serious, sure, because Wakanda doesn’t deal with middlemen like Thor, but he didn’t think Shuri takes issue with them either.

“No,” she says shortly. 

Conversation is quickly redirected after that. Steve’s missed Shuri and Okoye, as well as Xoliswa and Ayo, though he doesn’t usually spend a lot of time chatting with the princess’s detail. They talk business through their appetizer, then quickly switch to gossip for the rest of dinner. 

Annual meetings with Shuri are always close to his heart, enjoying the uninhibited chat about everything under the sun, from T’Challa’s apparently disastrous love life with Nakia, to recent renovations to his house like the pool that Bucky refuses to clean himself because _Steve promised that one time to do it himself_. 

He’d argue that agreeing to anything while Bucky’s mouth was in the vicinity of his dick is a verbal contract made under duress, but keeps his mouth shut. Steve would rather not run the risk of reducing the frequency to which such a predicament occurs moving forward, thank you very much. He’s well aware that he’s one lucky son of a bitch.

Bucky and Shuri are discussing some recently published paper on engineering theory that Steve knows Bucky’s been excited about but never bothered to read himself, and Steve’s content to watch his genius boyfriend ramble on about the lack of practical applications and potential for further study. Fuck, Bucky can read the fucking phone book and Steve would swoon. 

He catches Okoye smirking at him from across the table, and has to hide a burgeoning blush, faking a cough to cover up the move. Who’s he kidding? There’s no point in pretending that everyone doesn’t know he’s completely smitten with Bucky. If you asked Steve, he can’t see how anyone couldn’t possibly fall head over heels with his guy. 

When dinner winds down to a close, dessert devoured to the very last crumb, Steve invites Shuri out as he often does when they meet at whatever city for the year. “Stay for the night, we’ll take you somewhere nice,” he offers a bold grin, getting up from the table and handing Okoye some wrapped up food for Xoliswa and Ayo. 

Shuri, as always, declines without reservations. “I’ve got my own plans for Vegas, Steve. Okoye has been looking forward to them for months. Can’t disappoint her, now can I?” 

Steve raises his eyebrows at Okoye, who doesn’t even pause before looking him straight in the eye and declaring, “I love the slots.” Bucky audibly suppresses a giggle, though not very well. 

“We’ll have our own fun,” Shuri comes in for hugs and kisses, squeezing each of them generously. “Good night.” They say their goodbyes at the door, and go their separate ways. 

Steve suggests a walk down the cluster of restaurants and bars, the place lit up in neon signs and loud, intrusive screens advertising various products. Bucky snuggles into his side, half to breathe him in and half to shield his eyes. “You know, I’ve never even been to Nevada before,” Bucky tells him from under the protective hold of his arm. 

“Really?” Steve asks, though that’s to be expected once he gives it a second thought. “Anything you wanna do?” When Bucky scrunches his nose in answer, he goes on to teasingly suggest, “Let’s see, we can find a half decent roulette table, or have a ten dollar lobster meal, or hmm I’m sure there’s a strip joint around here somewhere.”

Bucky shoves him lightly, and Steve lets himself sway even if the push is hardly strong enough to move him one way or another. “You’re so annoying,” Bucky tilts his head up to kiss his jaw, rendering any and all credibility in his own words meaningless. Steve ducks his head so they can have a proper kiss, thoroughly delving into that warm mouth for as long as Bucky indulges him. “Nah,” he leisurely carries on with their walk. “I like this just fine.”

Steve stares down at the man in his arms, those long lashes and devastating cheekbones, the dimple barely covered by the start of a stubble that will surely be gone by tomorrow, and curls so soft to the touch that Steve always finds himself playing with it without meaning to. 

The little square they’re in is flashy, undeniably filthy, and kind of depressing, but walking through its crowds wrapped up in each other is somehow one of the most serene things he’s ever done in his life. Such is the magic of Bucky Barnes. “Yeah, I like this too.”

▽

◆

By the time they make it home, Bucky is ready to sink into bed, muscles loose and tired from their walk. They didn’t make it all the way back on foot, of course. The restaurant is miles from the resort, which in itself is best navigated with a vehicle.

Still, with the flight this morning and an eventful night with the Wakanda royalty, he’s starting to feel exhaustion creep in. Passing through the suite’s living room, he and Steve toe off their shoes and shrug out of jackets, setting them aside before going into the bedroom. 

It’s a simple enough room; large, plush bed, a wardrobe, and a vanity, and Bucky makes a beeline for his bags. He’s rooting around for pajamas and fresh underwear to change into when his fingers find silky smooth fabric. Fuck, he forgot he brought that. 

Peeking over his shoulder at Steve, who’s engrossed in undoing his belt and shirt, Bucky grabs the pile of clothing and slips into the bathroom. Steve’s voice follows him, asking, “Are you showering? I’m kinda beat.” When Bucky gives a noncommittal hum, he goes on to say, “You still gonna snuggle me if I don’t wash up again, Buck?” 

Bucky rolls his eyes. Like he’d ever hold out on snuggles. 

It takes no time at all to slip on the nightclothes, lace whispering against his skin and raising a trail of goosebumps. He looks at himself in the mirror, suddenly feeling much sweeter than he meant to, an emotion that’s glazing over the more scandalous sexy vibes he was honestly going for here. 

The color of the fabric’s a dark off-white, almost cream, and somewhat old fashioned. It’s not even particularly feminine, but he finds himself tracing the edges of the lace to feel it against his fingertips. 

He wears lingerie pretty often - sometimes for Steve’s benefit and often simply because he likes pretty underwear and, well, these days he can afford it, damnit - but when he saw this, he thought it’d be a fun surprise for this trip. Bucky might be having a revelation of his own about the look, the thin swathes of fabric somehow giving the getup an impression that’s much more risqué and provocative than he imagined it all in his head.

Looking his fill, Bucky tears himself away from the mirror and makes his way out. Steve’s rummaging through his own bag, slacks and unbuttoned shirt still on, so Bucky goes to lounge on the bed. “I know it’s not _our_ wedding night, but I thought you’d enjoy this,” he drawls, biting his bottom lip to keep in giggles.

“Honey, it ain’t no one’s wedding night just yet,” Steve pulls out a pair of boxers in triumph. Bucky patiently waits for the guy to finally turn the fuck around, and boy, is it worth it. Steve’s eyes immediately zero in on his torso, that attentive look finding all the dips and valleys, blazing a path down his legs and all the way back up again.

At first his face is one of blank curiosity, a little shellshocked and pleased, but not betraying much until he tilts his head a fraction, presumably playing their conversation over again in his head. Mischief twinkles in those stormy baby blues, pink lips spread into a broad spectacle under the carefully trimmed beard. 

All Bucky wanted was to put a smile on that face, so he’s jotting this down as a job well done. 

Steve runs the tip of his tongue across a bottom lip, before carefully asking, “Am I s’pposed to pretend you’re a virgin, Buck?” And that- Fuck, that was not what Bucky was thinking _at all_. Steve’s obviously messing with him - and hey, he _better_ not be calling Bucky a slut - but if that’s how it is, then he knows exactly how to play this.

Bucky stretches out, and he’s more than satisfied when he catches Steve’s eyes flickering down to somewhere above his thighs, that face full of humor darkening for a quarter of a second. He shrugs, and looks up at Steve through long, dark lashes, “If you want to.”

The laughter is suddenly wiped off the older man’s face, replaced instead with a bottomless well of hunger that he’s all too familiar with, and yet one that still manages to make his heart skip a beat. Bucky has to gulp when his mouth suddenly turns dry. 

Steve ambles closer, strong muscles rippling across the wide torso framed on either side by his shirt. “That what you want, sweetheart? Want me to treat you nice and sweet?” That deep honeyed voice instantly sinks into his bones, blanketing his entire being in hazy pleasure. 

“Steve,” Bucky warns, though he’s not sure what for, and somehow all he manages is a halfway audible whisper. 

Steve climbs over him, heavy gaze blatantly drinking in the view and coming close to hover over his lips. “You want it slow and careful, Buck? Is that it, honey?” he mouths against one side of Bucky’s jaw, lightly drawing shapes with his tongue and dragging that soft, scratchy beard until he’s biting down on the skin behind his ear. Bucky lets out a strangled mewl, trying and failing to catch his breath. He thinks he tries to say Steve’s name again, but his brain is slowly turning to mush so he really can’t be sure. “All you gotta do is ask, Buck, you know that. Always gonna give it to you,” Steve noses down his neck, placing sloppy pecks across the expanse. 

“Fuck,” Bucky finds his voice, arching up against that looming upper body and grasping at the back to Steve’s head to pull him up for a proper kiss. The blonde lets him lead, curling his tongue against his when they meet, and biting into a plump lower lip hard enough to draw out a whimper. “How did you make this crazy hot?” he breathes out in a rush, and Steve laughs until the bed shakes under the both of them.

“I dunno, honey, I think it’s you,” Steve’s eyes crinkle lovingly, face all soft and caring, like he wasn’t turning Bucky into an incoherent boneless heap with nothing but less than a dozen words in the timbre of that voice, and his sheer presence not two seconds ago. 

Bucky pulls him in for a brief tangle of lips one last time, huffing a laugh. “You’re so fucking weird, Steve, I love you so much,” he mutters against a strong, defiant chin, earning a blinding grin so bright it rivals the goddamn Strip. 

“Love you too, Buck,” Steve touches their foreheads lightly, before sliding their lips together nice and delicate, just like he promised, slowly building up into the kind of kiss that melds them into one. 

When Steve devours him like this, all deliberate and thorough, it’s like he’s inhaling all of Bucky, consuming and pulling him into that hulking mass of love and devotion. 

Maybe he’s got it all wrong, though, and it’s Steve pouring every part of himself into Bucky instead, the bits and pieces he’s given away over the years, and the ones he keeps tucked up deep inside - the good and the ugly. 

It doesn’t much matter either way. It all leads to the marrying of their two selves, so inseparable Bucky doesn’t think he’d survive without the touch of the other man. He hopes he’d never have to find out if that’s true.

◆

Right, this is exactly the kind of thing he’s prepared for. 

When your kid sister comes to you in a panic about an emergency with the bride she’s supposed to be helping get ready, it’s Bucky’s job to make sure Becca keeps it together. His sister looks like she’s about to lose it herself, her updo so close to falling apart and eyes pooling with barely restrained unshed tears. 

Bucky takes a deep breath. The ceremony is stressful enough aside from, well, the actual wedding. It’s got fewer in attendance, give or take a quarter of the people expected at the formal reception, but it’s still a bizarre collection of government officials and the kind of people that work with crime lords. 

Steve’s here to celebrate his friend getting married, sure, but for a lot of the guests, he’s here as Captain Rogers, and the ever present tension lining those broad shoulders is far from absent this morning. 

On top of all that, now Becca apparently has some world ending - or wedding ending, rather - shit storm that’s driven her to seek out her big brother for assistance. Did he envision this future for himself when he signed papers declaring custody as a twenty year old? He has no fucking idea. That feels like a lifetime ago now. 

“She won’t come out, Bucky!” Becca screeches into her hands, eyes pleading and red rimmed. “We fucked up her hair and now I’m gonna be responsible for ruining a million dollar wedding!” She rakes peach painted nails across her curls. 

“Alright, take a deep breath, nothing’s ruined.” He’s tempted to point out that this entire soirée probably cost more than just _one_ million dollars, but is self aware enough to know he shouldn’t. Bucky takes hold of Becca’s hands and clasps them together in his own before she scrapes off half her scalp. “Darcy can’t fix it? I thought she wanted her bridesmaids to do her hair because it’s meaningful or some shit?”

Becca shakes her head, still on the verge of tears. “She won’t let us touch it. If she starts crying, _her makeup is gonna run too and then it’ll all be over_!” Bucky tries his best to understand Becca’s panic here, but he really does think this is an attainable fix. 

“Becs, listen to me.” Becca immediately focuses on him the way she used to when he had to sit her down and tell her they’re selling the house to move to a one bedroom apartment, or that they’re going to have to skimp a bit on food to keep the heating, or that the social worker is visiting yet again to check on Alice. “Everything will be fine. Jane loves Thor, and she’ll remember that’s why she’s getting married today, not how her hair looks.”

Becca nods, like all she needs is for Bucky to say so for her to believe it. Bucky wracks his brain. There’s gotta be a hairdresser of some kind in the crowd, right? Bucky would try to help but all he can do is pigtails and a half decent french braid, and he hasn’t done either since Alice was a sophomore. 

Steve finds them in the small alcove they’re holing up in, face scrunching up in concern when he sees the state Becca is in. “Becca, shit, what’s wrong?” Becca presses a hand over her mouth like she’s holding in sobs before she can work up the energy to regale the tragedy again. 

Bucky draws calming circles on her back, sending Steve a grimace. “Jane’s having a bit of a hair crisis. She’s refusing to come out.” Steve’s eyes bug out the slightest bit, apparently closer on the panic spectrum to Becca than Bucky at the news. “We just need someone who knows what they’re doing, and go in there and help.”

Steve’s eyes flit over to Becca, and he rubs at her arm soothingly. “We’ll find someone,” he decisively tells her. “Why don’t you go in and try to talk to her, and we’ll send them in soon, okay?”

With that, Becca pulls herself together, almost worryingly impressive at masking her emotions, leaving to go back to the side room where the bridal party is. “Uh, who do you have in mind, exactly?” Bucky asks when they’re alone. 

Steve groans, scratching at his beard in an interesting mix of amusement and irritation. It is _not_ a comforting expression. “The Odinsons have this thing,” he gestures indistinctly, “with hair.” That tells Bucky absolutely nothing, and he makes sure to tell Steve exactly that. “I think Loki could help.” 

Buck’s eyebrows fly off his forehead. “Doesn’t he kind of, uh, hate you?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs.

“Well,” Bucky tugs on the hem of his suit. “He’ll still help, right? It’s for his brother’s wedding.” The dubious look on Steve’s face is like a sinking stone in Bucky’s gut. “Knock it off, we’ll go ask right now, come on.”

Loki isn’t as easy to convince as Bucky thought he’d be. It was like getting blood from a stone simply pulling the guy aside from the midst of some conversation with a bunch of Norwegian politicians, and he almost looks indifferent when Bucky conveys the issue and asks him to lend a hand. 

They’re still in the hall where the ceremony will be, surrounded by guests, when Loki asks a hair too loudly, “Or what, you’ll gut me out back?” 

Steve’s jaw clenches, drawing close and blocking their little corner from the rest of the room with his broad, towering frame. “Listen to me very closely,” he slowly gets out. “This room is crawling with all kinds ‘a people, and you want to be _very_ careful about what you say and do, Loki, for your brother’s sake.” 

Something flashes across Loki’s eyes, and the nonchalance he puts on is a touch less believable when he drawls, “Is that a threat?”

“I know you got no clue about half the guys here, but believe me when I say you don’t _want_ to know the shit they’ll pull without even so much as a warning threat.” Steve lets it sink in for long enough that Loki tears his eyes away. “This is the tightrope your brother walks everyday, and you’re gonna have to suck it up and deal with it for _less_ than 24 hours.” 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Loki gestures with the half drunk glass of champagne in hand.

Steve breathes a sigh, and Bucky’s surprised to see that he doesn’t look at all worried about what decision Loki will come to, fifteen minutes away from when Jane’s supposed to be walking down the aisle. “Now I know you care about your brother, so will you go and help his future wife or not?”

Loki plasters on a scowl, but his put upon, “If I must,” is enough to drag him over to the bridal party’s room.

Surprisingly, Loki not only manages to reassure all the bridesmaids that he is indeed qualified to style the bride’s hair, he also talks Jane down from her hysteria and puts her light brown locks in curls and thin braids that make her look like some kind of fairytale princess. The guy’s got a future in hairstyling, alright. If the whole Norwegian politician thing doesn’t pan out, he’d be all set. 

Soon enough, they all find their seats in the hall, Steve and Bucky about five rows in from the beautifully decorated arch. It’s a mixed faith wedding, and Bucky’s familiar enough at least with the Jewish customs Jane’s family brings into the ceremony. 

Thor looks like he’s one breath away from breaking down into tears throughout the entire thing, holding onto Jane’s hands like he’s afraid of losing her if he lets go for even a second. Jane looks just as emotional, a determination in the set of her shoulders that challenges the whole goddamn universe to keep her from marrying her guy. 

That’s pure Jane Foster, and he knows Thor sees it too. 

He’s looking down at her like she’s the most precious thing on earth, tender and loving, confident in the fact that he’s found the best friend he’s chosen to love for the rest of his life, and knowing that he’ll spend all the coming years proving that sweeping, indescribable sentiment in the ways in which they treat and love each other and build their life as one. 

Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand in his, the soft, malleable feeling in his chest bubbling up and choking him from the inside out. 

He looks up because he finds that he has to, that all he wants right now is to stare into Steve’s face that’s lined with years of laughter and see his love reflected in those world-weary eyes - only to find that the man’s already gazing down at him, wearing a look not so different from that of the groom’s. 

Bucky stares right back, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to look away even if he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell, this installment will be confined within the 72 hour period around Thor and Jane’s wedding, and I thought I’d mention it just to avoid any confusion given that the rest of this series’ installments have been spread out over weeks/months at a time.
> 
> Talk to me about things if you’d like. More soon!


End file.
